Together
by another.maggie
Summary: Sarah and Helena growing up together (mostly). Basically I'm overcompensating for what S4 (IMO) is lacking - Sestra love. ;) And I think we need more twin-sestras stories in general. tw: mentions and discussion of self harm, drug abuse, child abuse, self destruction
1. Together

**Together.**

It's easier. Together.  
It's how they belong. There's no 'where' they belong for them. They have no home.  
But what they have, when they do, is each other. And that's almost as good, If it isn't better.

They are very nice when they are together. Wholesome.  
They help around the house, they are pleasant to be with, they cause no trouble. Little angels.  
However, split up? That's an entire different story.

Sarah is angry when she's alone. She pouts and throws tantrums. She snaps and she screams. She bites and she hits.  
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven homes it is she's lived in by the time Siobhan Sadler comes to get her. Only her.

Helena is afraid when she's alone.  
No, that's not true. In the beginning she isn't. In the beginning, she's friendly and tries to be helpful, thinking that this will get her back with her sister.  
When they start to beat her she learns that being helpful and being obedient are two different things. And that neither will help her to get back with her sister.

Sarah is eight (no, she's not, she's five, five, because her sister is still five, because they were both five when they last saw each other and it just cannot have been three years, they are five, five, five) when Mrs. S says she will adopt her and Felix. Felix is Sarah's foster brother. He's three (he is).  
Sarah throws a tantrum. She cannot be adopted. Not without Helena, she can't.

Although she doesn't understand a lot about the foster system and adoption, Sarah now knows that something about it is difficult. Here's the facts.  
a) Mrs. S wants Sarah and for Sarah's sake is willing to adopt Helena.  
b) Tomas, Helena's current foster father, wants to adopt Helena.  
c) Tomas has a partner. Mrs. S doesn't.  
Apparently married parents are more important than keeping twins together. Which is not really a fact, but something that has to be discussed in court. Which is not a boy's name (Kurt, that would be weird, discussing something inside a person, weird and gross), but a place where a judge and lawyers settle their case (which is not the case where you put your stuff when you change foster homes, but Mrs. S wanting Helena).

It annoys Sarah that they have to go through all of this before she can be back with Helena. Mrs. S is nice enough (very good at playing the piano) and with Helena, they will make a family.

Sarah turns nine in that courtroom, four months after her (their) actual birthday. She turns nine when she sees Helena again. After four years, four months and twenty-three days they are together again. Not really though, not yet. Sarah is sitting on one of the benches, all by herself, because Mrs. S has to sit up front to make her case. But today Sarah will testify and that's why she's there. Helena is entering the room, walking between two grown ups (her fosters, probably). Sarah is so happy to see her, but that happiness is not reflected in Helena.

It can't be as Helena does not see her. Helena is walking with her shoulders hunched and head down. Her hair is frizzy. Sarah's is in a ponytail for the hearing. She prefers it down (they both do).

"Helena", she calls. Her sister looks up. Their eyes meet. It seems to take a load off Helena's mind. Sarah can see her sister starting to move, move towards her. Together. That's how they belong.  
The man stops her. He says something Sarah cannot hear, because everyone's talking and they are still so far away. Then the woman takes Helena's hand and takes Sarah's sister's hand and takes her and takes her away.  
Helena doesn't look back. Shoulders hunched, head down.

Mrs. S does get custody (which means she will be her mum) of Helena when the trial is over. But she doesn't seem to be too happy about it. When Sarah asks, she just shakes her head. "It's not that I'm not happy about her joining our family, love. It's because of what was the cost for that. But she will tell you in her own time." Sarah doesn't know what that means.

Sarah is super excited for the day Helena comes to live with them. Mrs. S got them matching "sister" sweaters (Sarah insisted, that everyone at her school had to be informed who Helena was once they got there), and Sarah is already wearing hers. She's waiting by the front window in the sitting room, so she can be the first at the car.  
Mrs. S has never seen Sarah as excited, joyful and positive. She is known not to shut up, but this time it's not cursing and swearing. She's asking for feedback. Will Helena like their room? Will she mind sharing (she probably won't, they like being together)? Could they have jello for tea? That is (used to be?) Helena's favourite. It's lovely.

Mrs. S really does hope that the price for Sarah's joy will be one they can pay.  
"The outcome of what has happened to Helena cannot be known until she is exposed to certain situations", at least If you believe in psychologists. Mrs. S hopes, prays that Helena will react well to seeing Sarah. It could go either way, complete devotion or aggressive resent.

"They're here! They're here!" Sarah, basically bouncing on the sofa, that's how giddy she is, gets up and runs for the door. "Wait for me, love", Mrs. S says, although she knows these words to be wasted.  
She's lucky. When she opens the door, her gaze falls upon two (happy) girls hugging each other until they are breathless.

Sarah and Helena are very good for each other, but that doesn't mean that Sarah can wipe away Helena's past. Nobody can. And sometimes it's hard for Sarah to understand.

Why does Helena have so many nightmares and why won't she talk about them? Why can't she have knifes and forks, only spoons? Why do they have locks in front of the fridge and cabinets now (she understands that partially, but Helena only threw up because she ate everything once and it was funny)? Why doesn't she bathe and dress with Sarah? Why does she have to go to the psychiatrist (someone who talks with her about things) and why can't Sarah go with her?

When those questions aren't asked and left unanswered though, they're good. They're better than they've ever been. Together.

 _Disclaimer: Orphan Black and its characters belong to BBC America._


	2. Change

"Canada?! Bloody 'ell, S!"  
"No cursing, please, Sarah." Mrs. S sighs into her coffee cup. "It's barely 8 am and it would already take a whole bar of soap to..."  
"...wash your mouth clean", Felix joins in, then giggles. Sarah and Mrs. S can't find it in themselves to join in with him.  
"But seriously", Sarah interjects ignoring the scolding, "Toronto – that's like... super far away." Now she wishes she would have payed more attention to geography (not really though, because places don't matter, being together does, yet still Canada...).  
Helena mumbles something into her cereal (cornflakes without sugar, she would like to have sugar, but she mustn't before afternoon, or the teacher will complain about her moving too much) and Mrs. S scolds her too, lightly. "Don't talk with your mouth full, please."  
Looking up Sarah's sister, twin sister, repeats: "I don't mind moving. Farther away from Tomas."  
"Me neither", Felix chimes in before anyone can put too much meaning into Helena's words (sad, sad, sad, angry?), "They have bears in Canada!"  
"Am I seriously alone in this?" Sarah's arms fly up into the air as her twin watches (flying, falling, falling down in London town). "What about school? Our friends?"  
"I don't have any friends", Helena says.  
That settles it.

Canada is surprisingly nice. But Sarah can't admit that. So she won't.

They get separate bedrooms (not for long, though, little feet in the night moving quickly and they're together). Mrs. S says they'll appreciate it when they're older and seeing boys. Sarah sees boys all the time and she doesn't like them (except for Felix), so she doesn't think this is a good reason (growing feet walking over the creaking floorboards as quietly as possible, growing feet until seeing boys becomes relevant, it won't).  
On the weekends Mrs. S takes them on little trips, exploring the town. The school is just down the street and there's a playground, too. Felix likes it, so does Helena. Sarah likes it, but she won't say (only to Helena, because she won't use Sarah's feelings against her like all the others).

Their new school is good. The teachers are nice and the chairs are comfy, the windows are clean enough to gaze out daydreaming. Even the kids, when not making fun of their British accent (little hearts hurt, little mouths become quiet), are nice.  
One day though, it's just not nice anymore, just like that.

"Hurry up, chicken, you don't want to be late", Mrs. S tells Helena.  
"I don't want to go to school", Helena corrects her, quietly.  
"It's only one more day until the weekend", Mrs. S says, stroking her hair. This is a kind of touch Helena likes. When you touch her at the wrong places she will not like it (kick, flail, scream, no, stop, no, please, stop).  
Helena goes to school, pale as the milk her leftover cereal swims in. She has barely touched it.

When Sarah figures out why school isn't good anymore, Sarah takes care of it. She takes care of it and then she gets punished. Which doesn't make any sense.  
"...hitting other kids", the headmaster tells S. His voice is like the one family members of her old fosters' used to convince them that they had to give Sarah up. Too bad S has already adopted her. No giving back here. Sarah thinks about being sent back to London in a package. What would it be like? Would she be able to breathe? Who would open it? Would Helena come?  
"Anything to say, Sarah?" S looks at her, sincerely. Not at all like the headmaster. She wants to hear what Sarah says. She's not saying this out of courtesy.  
"They were hurting Helena", Sarah says simply.  
The headmaster sighs. "What happened to Helena is very wrong and we are very sorry, however it does not justify..." He seems to like 'very' very much.  
Sarah turns her head and stars out of the big glass window. She knows Helena is safe at home with Felix, watched by uncle Benjamin until they come home. When they do Sarah will go and hug her and she will tell her that, no matter what those dumb kids said, her wings are very beautiful.

Their tenth birthday, their first Canadian birthday, is a minor affair. Sarah invites three friends, Helena just one (they wouldn't have invited anyone, Sarah & Helena that's all they need, but S said, S said: you can't keep to yourselves always, and so they don't).  
They play games and eat cake, unwrap presents and watch a movie. But it's really when they lay in their bed (Helena's, because Helena's room's got the window to the sky) that night watching the stars fall and tumble that they squeeze each other's hands and make a wish.

 _Disclaimer: Orphan Black and it's respective characters belong to BBC America._


	3. Concern

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I have no clue how far I can go with this story, but I'll try to keep updating as long as you keep reading. Also, If someone wants to beta I'd really appreciate it, since English is not my first language. :)  
Btw. the editing is not working properly. Sorry for the layout.  
**

When they're together, everything is perfect. They build their own universe; their own version of the very boring (Helena), very annoying (Sarah) world they have to face every day.

It's summer. Holiday. Summer holiday. They're 13. They're on staycation, as always. Adoption has its perks. Wellfare is not one of them.

Sarah's back is facing the wall, her eyes are fixed on Helena's feet. They would lie face to face, but that just won't do. Not If S can walk in any minute to check on them 'practising their languages'. Which, technically, is not a lie. Helena has done her practice earlier and Sarah will copy it later. It's not like she'll ever understand languages in the way Helena does anyway. (Which is strange, because she should, they're the same, but she doesn't, she doesn't know why, she doesn't).

Helena's back is facing the door, her eyes are not fixed on anything (focusing isn't something she's really good at, her eyes are always scanning, always taking in, processing). Right now she knows that the door is two steps away, the window three. The garage is beneath Sarah's window, which makes climbing out easy. It used to be Helena's room, but she insisted they switch. If someone breaks into her room, she can jump and still keep going. Sarah would break her legs (probably, maybe, no?). Helena doesn't care about her legs (she cares about Sarah).

"We should go away", Sarah tells Helena's feet. There's a hole in the left sock. It's a nice sock, white-ish (Helena's clothes stop being white the moment she puts them on) with a pink donut print. It makes sense that Helena won't throw them away (it's not like she'd get new ones If she did).

"Where?" There's a fly at the ceiling. Helena follows it through the room until she spots the part of the wall that's covered in blue ink, because Sarah wanted to try science (she doesn't like it, she'll never do it again, S is glad).

There's no need for Helena to ask about where or why. Sarah would never do something to put her in harm's way (unlike others).

"I don't know. America. Somewhere?" Sarah clicks her tongue. She likes that noise (Helena too, Helena likes all kind of noises).

Helena hums. "I'd like that." (Of course she does, great minds think alike, twins think alike, they are alike) "We could go to Disneyland."

* * *

They do go, actually. But they do not make it to Disneyland. Or America. Or even just out of Toronto. Mrs. S finds them at the train station and collects them before they can attempt their journey. Felix, the tattletale, just couldn't stay quiet (they should just keep to themselves, they know, stay quiet, hidden, together, alone together, without anyone else).

Sarah's new holiday project is a Disney castle, made out of milk cartons. Helena is so amazed she doesn't shut her mouth when she receives the gift and only says "thank you" after S asks her to. "You're welcome, meathead", Sarah says, jokingly.

"Do not call me this", Helena replies, eyes fixed on the castle.

* * *

Thirteen is a hard age for the twins, because their changes become more apparent. Sarah is entering those stages of puberty where the body is actually changing, while Helena is just growing taller and skinnier. No widened hips, no budding breasts. Just lean, lanky, long limbs.

She does catch up with Sarah and vice versa, but for seven months or so they are as different as they will ever be. And not just 'Helena likes languages and Sarah likes maths' different. It's the worst kind of different, because everyone can see and they cannot disguise it. They're visibly different (Helena's hair has been different, yes, but that's different because it's her angel hair, and you can put hair under a cap so no one will see, hair can be hidden).

No more tricking teachers, no more Helena runs twice in track (once as Sarah, once as herself), no more getting more portions, no more " But I've been at this class" (which is met with a nervous nod, because the teacher just can't tell them apart), no more Sarah going to Helena's psychiatrist, no more play pretend. They have to be Sarah and Helena. Separately.

It feels so right and it feels so wrong. Helena starts hockey. And Sarah? Sarah starts her own thing. Which is boys. Where the twins can try and ignore the changes, the boys don't. And it proves to be an advantage.

Sarah's first big love somehow loses a lot of his teeth soon after he breaks up with her. Nobody knows what happened, he won't say. He says he fell. He ran into a post. He tells a lot of stories (he also told Sarah a lot of stories and then he was told a story himself, with fists).

Helena squeezes Sarah's hand as they ride on the school bus, Sarah listening to music, Helena counting the people they pass on their way. She squeezes her twin's hand, squeezes Sarah's hand, squeezes her sister's hand, glad that her sister is not side tracked any longer. (there's only one way to go and they have to go down there together).

* * *

It starts like this: _We're concerned_.

Helena is gazing out of the window, not paying the slightest bit of attention. It's summer. Her angel wings show under the tank top she's wearing. It's slipped off of one of her shoulders, her bra shows. She doesn't mind. They're 17.

Almost free.

Interlude: _We've noticed some drastic changes._

Yes, life has changed. Sarah has discovered bars and how to get in when you're a minor. Helena has followed her. One of them leads, the other one follows, that's how it goes. They wouldn't need to. If lying in bed all day facing each other's feet and just breathing would be enough, they wouldn't need to (they made us this way, it is not our fault, it isn't).

Helena has a boyfriend, Jesse, whom she met in a bar fight. Unfortunately, he's in college. She can only see him when he visits town (or when she steals off in the middle of the night, which she would, she would, but she cannot, cannot leave Sarah, leave her sister behind).

Sarah has many boyfriends. She has to switch them according to who will buy them (yes, Helena too, Helena belongs with Sarah and they have to be up for that) drinks, because S cut their pocket money thinking they were buying drugs (which is unfair, only once, after all, usually they only share with others, less expensive that way).

So, yes, life has changed. But who is to blame? Surely not them.

No, it's society that leaves them no choice. Because they cannot just lie around facing each other. Because they are split up in school, all different courses. Because their freedom of choice was taken from them where they had it. They had to find a new place where they can choose, right?

A human without choices is like a caged animal. If they don't fight back, they'll be institutionalized. And Helena won't let that happen to sister.

An angel without choices is basically an angel without wings. And Sarah won't let that happen to her sister. So she gives Helena the empty beer bottle and she lets her go outside and she lets her smash the bottle on the ground and the ground breaks the bottle and she lets her and she laughs and she lets her pocket the glass shreds (only three at the time, three for a week, three for one cut each, because everything else would be unhygienic and that could cause infection and no, Sarah will not let that happen to her) and she lets her do it.

Helena, in return, doesn't say anything. When Sarah is crying, when Sarah is laughing, when Sarah stays away for a night that Helena spends in the bathtub bathing with glass shreds. She doesn't tell on Sarah and she's not worried. She doesn't have to be. She knows. She knows Sarah is safe. As safe as she can be, trying to escape the cage.

Helena touches her wings, gazes out of the window. Sarah was schedueled to attend this boring (leave me alone, I don't care, this is a waste of time, boring) meeting. Sarah hasn't shown up. It's fine. She's fine (they're fine, tomorrow she'll come back, sneak into Helena's room and get her and they'll go, go, go away from the bars).

It ends like this: _Boarding school._

 _Disclaimer: Orphan Black and it's respective characters belong to BBC America. (A little more Helena in the next episodes would be appreciated, though.)_


	4. No

There are a few ways into boarding school.

Money, which S doesn't have, clearly, as they cannot even go on vacation in the summer.

Good grades, which Sarah doesn't have, for obvious reasons.

Exceptional sport accomplishments, which nobody knows whether Sarah could have, because she never attends PE.

Connections, which S only has in England and Sarah only has with the local drug circle (and those don't count for this kind of business).

So, for Sarah, there is no way into boarding school. Bohoo. How sad.

It could all be fine. It could all be fine, If there wasn't someone else in their family, that actually meets requirements.

* * *

"You just have to ruin the interview", Sarah says, easily. It's all easy to her. She cannot see the problem ( _their_ problem). She has a lot of other problems (shared problems, but not really shared, just in thought, but still, shared, that's what they do).

"How do I do this?" Helena's eyes follow the little spider at the high end of the wall, slowly dangling down. (where are you going, can I come).

Sarah shrugs, but Helena doesn't see that. Helena sees the spider dangling down at the high end of the wall behind Sarah's feet. "Well, you gotta talk about things that other people don't want to hear. That they might find uncomfortable."

"Like Jesse?", Helena perks up. A girl at their school asked about her boyfriend and Helena told her they were having 'loads of sex', which put the girl off. (Sarah, though, _Sarah_ laughed and she flung her arm around Helena, flung her arm around her sestra, because they need another word, they're not just twins, not just sisters, sestra, it's holy, it's them, Sarah flung her arm around Helena and they laughed, together)

"Yeah... no... that might seem like you're totally sociable. Which you are." Sarah blinks. "But they mustn't know, right?" (we cannot let them see us).

Now Helena is shrugging and wiggling and she sits up. "What else?"

"Er... that you like your broccoli with sugar... about your wings?"  
Helena frowns. "What about them?"  
Sarah sighs, shakes her head. Helena doesn't see. "Nothing. Nothing."

* * *

A week of coaching should have Helena up and ready to absolutely _crush_ this interview. And not 'crush' it in a good way, but really crush something for example the teacher's hand. She would only sprain, not break, obviously. But that should suffice, Sarah says.

"You'll crush it for us?" Sarah is not allowed to come. She's supposed to stay home and watch Felix. (Lies, lies S tells them, because why would Sarah have to stay with Felix If uncle Benjamin is there watching both of them, that's not true).

"Yes, much crushing", Helena nods.

They hug. It's not goodbye.

* * *

And she really wants to. She really wants to. But oh. They trick her.

Helena is not that good at resisting tricks. Mrs. S was very angry that one time she followed the guy, who wanted to show her kittens. Sarah stopped her. Felix tattled on her. And Mrs. S lectured her about something called stranger danger. Helena let them do all that. But what nobody knows is that her problem doesn't lie in seeing through the tricks (she sees so much more than ordinary people), the problem lies in Helena seeing and accepting. She's in it for the prize.

And at this school they pull a nice trick. Mrs. S and the teacher. Together (but not in the good way Sarah and Helena are together).

They tell her she can train. They tell her the interview will be later, so she's got the time. Time to participate in the training.

It's a trick. When it comes to things Helena likes, she cannot hide it. And she cannot say "no" when the teacher asks her whether she would like to train with them. Lying is a sin. But she knows. She knows she can't do that. So she doesn't say anything. She just doesn't decide.

But oh. Mrs. S is in on the whole thing. And Mrs. S says: "She's shy with strangers, but warms up real quickly." It sounds like an apology. Helena doesn't like that sound. Sarah would never apologise for her. If anything, she'd beat whoever thought Helena had something to apologise for.

"Let's get you out there, shall we?"

And Helena wants to say. And Helena wants to tell him that she doesn't like to be touched when he puts his hands on her back (between her shoulder blades, on her wings). And she wants to say that she cannot, that she will not play. And she wants to stop Mrs. S from putting her into hockey gear. And she wants to, she needs to, she has to...

And then she's there. Out on the field. She sees the goal, recognises her team mates as players she will support and just starts playing. She cannot help herself (sorry).

* * *

"I'm very proud of you, Helena", Mrs. S says, in the car.

Helena cries, soundlessly.

* * *

Sarah is mad.

At Helena. At S. At those teachers at this bloody school. At the world.

"How did this happen? We had it all planned", she says, running a hand through her hair that is the same but also so different from Helena's, pacing around her (their) room.

Helena stays silent. She knows Sarah doesn't really want any answers anyway.

"You've gotta do something so they throw you out of there", Sarah tells her. A new plan, that's good. That will save them.

But this plan is not good.

"I cannot do this", Helena whispers. Sarah is mad. Sometimes when Sarah's mad she says thing that later Sarah regrets. And Helena doesn't want to hear any of those things.

"Wha? What do you mean ' _you cannot do this_ '? We do shit at school all the time. Just... smoke some weed, drink in class, dunno, something like that." Helena presses her lips together, sadly. Sarah doesn't know yet.

"This is our last straw. If we break it, we cannot finish school", Helena tells her, "Mrs. S says."

"S again, huh? She's your buddy now? Do you care what she thinks? Do you care about school more than you care about us being together?"

Helena's eyes widen. But she can't say no. She can't. Her mouth opens, but there's no sound.

"Oh! So. That's the deal." Sarah laughs that bitter laugh she laughs when watching Helena collect the glass shreds from the ground. The laugh she laughs when she leaves with a stranger assuring Helena it's okay. That laugh she laughs when S tells her she's disappointed. That laugh Helena hates (but not really, because she loves everything about Sarah, doesn't she, she does). "You want to go to this bloody school..."  
Helena rises from the bed to cross over to where Sarah is standing, not pacing anymore, just standing still like a statue (statues are creepy). "It has a great sport program. And computers everywhere. We can skype and I can visit every weekend, Mrs. S said..."

"S and you really are best buddies now, huh? Real cute", Sarah spits. Literally. She spits. At Helena.

"It's only one more year", Helena whispers, her eyes falling from Sarah's mirror eyes to the ground.

"Well, If you wanna come to visit from your fancy school that you love so much, do it. But I won't be here waiting for you", Sarah screams. And leaves.

She doesn't come back before Helena is gone. She can't bear to say goodbye.

* * *

 _Disclaimer: Orphan Black and its respective characters belong to BBC America._


	5. Back

_A/N: This chapter deals with something Sarah revealed during the investigation by DYAD – that she had an abortion (in the last few paragraphs). It's not very graphic, more like "Hills like White Elephants" discussion. So If that triggers you I really don't recommend reading it past the point with the warning. Later chapters will not touch the issue._

 _Also thank you for the reviews! Inspired me to upload another chapter so quickly :D_

* * *

Months on end it's like this:  
Helena comes home for the weekend, Sarah leaves for the weekend.

Mrs. S tries her best to distract Helena, but it just doesn't work. Playing the piano. Visiting the skate park. Hanging out with Jesse. That's things Helena would do by herself anyway. Things she wouldn't really have to come home to do (piano at the school, skate park in the close by town), now that Jesse has a car.

Helena comes home to see Sarah. But she never does.

So she stops coming. That way, she thinks, at least Sarah won't spend any nights on the street because of her.

* * *

Sarah doesn't spend her nights on the street. Not most of them anyway.

She knows her ways into stranger's beds.

It's funny really (though, really, it's sad). She's got a thing going. Sleep till 7 then get up quietly, sneak into the shower. Then a bit of snooping If her host is still asleep, quick breakfast out of the fridge – thanks to Helena she knows exactly what to do with empty fridge ingredients (but she dare not think about it, she cannot think about Helena, who is at their house, dancing with Felix, eating with S, talking about how she likes her new school sooo much and doesn't miss Sarah at all, because if she did, really, wouldn't she try harder to find her, wouldn't she), and she's gone.

She uses different names, different make up (only the dark eye shadow stays, always, because it still looks the way it's supposed to look the next morning and it drowns out the colour of her eyes, they must not remember anything about her at all, not the colour of her eyes, nothing), different hair styles, changing pick up stations (it's mesmerizing how many clubs actually don't check for a 17 year old's ID).

The beds are also always very different.

One thing never changes, though, and that's the painful itch in the hand that her sister used to hold at night.

* * *

Mrs. S, or S as Sarah calls her, doesn't really know what to do.

She knows that both of them are miserable. That Helena is trying to give Sarah a space that Sarah doesn't need. That Sarah is trying to block Helena out like Felix blocks out his puberty face with make up. She's their mother (she hopes she is). She knows.

There is nothing she can do, though. When Sarah is home, she feels such an relief to know she's safe and fine (although she never really worries, because Helena would know and Helena would call, no, Helena would come If Sarah was in danger) that she doesn't dare to raise the topic. The phone calls she now has as her only connection to Helena are limited to an amount of thirty seconds in which Helena will say she's fine, ask how they are doing (fine), ask whether Sarah wants to talk to her (no) and then say goodbye. (If S wasn't so sidetracked by her eldest child going totally off the wails, she'd probably take more pride in the fact that her most troubled child is now the most stable one, building a life for herself, excelling at school, eating (relatively) healthy, remembering her manners on the telephone...).

It's a shame, really. And it feels like it's all her fault.

And maybe, If she could, she would reverse it all. Pull Helena out of boarding school. Maybe change town so the girls can have a quiet final year at a school that doesn't know about their double trouble. Maybe, she had overreacted about their nightly trips. Maybe that was just what teens did. Maybe she should have let them and then they would have just stopped.

The only things that have stopped since Helena left them are Sarah going to school (she will take the back, she will walk Felix to the gates, she might even walk into her first class, but then she's gone, gone, gone, not going), their house being awfully quiet and Felix growing a foot (granted, that would have probably happened either way).

Her make shift family is falling apart and it is bothering her. All three of her adopted kids may be a handful in their own way, but at least they were happy. They weren't perfect. But since the twins were rejoined, they were happy. Healing each other. And Felix, in between, healing with the knowledge that he had two sisters, who would take a beating (or more) for him.

Had she destroyed all that the minute she gave in to the headmaster's wishes?

Maybe it was wrong. But she had just been so tired. And she didn't know what to do. Sarah was falling, falling like a leave, like an angel without wings (maybe that's why she helped Helena keep hers growing, to help her sister rise and not be pulled down with her, in the only way she could). And Helena was just holding on for what was already past. It didn't seem healthy to keep them around each other, not at the time.

Now, though? Now it seems like a pretty stupid mistake. Like a mistake one of the three troubles would make.

* * *

Helena fosters her wings. Even without Sarah. But for her.

She knows now that even if they never grow into full wings, they can help her fly for a moment.

Helena stands in the shower in the dorm with a butter knife from the cafeteria that she sharpened on a stone she stole in geology class (which she later blamed on a girl that called Sarah 'imaginary', because 'real twins would never separate'). It's way past shower time. It's way past bed time. But that's okay. Helena knows how not to get caught.

Her room mate has a relationship with another girl from their school. Helena sometimes lets that girl sleep in her bed (though she suspects the girl doesn't really sleep in her bed) and pretends to be the girl when the teachers check If they are sleeping. Helena covers. Her room mate owes her.

Helena has gone to the loo, she'll say, I bet she'll be back in a minute. And then she'll send a text to Helena to come back.

Her room mate doesn't know what Helena does. Nobody knows, she's careful. Nobody knows, only Jesse and when he sees it he makes some sad noise, kisses her neck and says "oh, 'lena".

Helena wonders whether Sarah knows. Whether Sarah feels her pain like she sometimes feels Sarah's.

The shower room is dark. There's no light at this hour. But that's okay. Pain is more for feeling than seeing, anyway. And wings are made to fly.

* * *

It happens in broad daylight and Helena (always prepared, always seeking the nearest escape, always ready to run) is caught totally off guard.

Mindy, the girl who has stolen the stone (really bad of her, she shouldn't have done that, thou shall not steal or else you'll lose a hand, chop chop), stops in the hall and stares at Helena. How rude. Helena barks. Mindy takes a step back. "S-sorry", she stutters, and it fits her. This high afraid voice. "I just thought I'd seen you at the cafeteria... your hair looked so different."

And Helena's eyes widen and widen and they widen like Sarah's eyes widen If Sarah would widen her eyes, because it's the same eyes and they go wide and she breathes and she knows. She knows.

Sarah doesn't want to eat at the cafeteria. Sarah doesn't want to hug Helena (not yet, she thinks, later surely, she will). Sarah wants to go out.

Except for it being a broken rule in the making, Helena doesn't mind the idea. It's not like cafeteria food could compare to this of diners (sometimes they even run out of jell-o and she tells Sarah, but Sarah tucks her hair (their hair) behind her ear and nods and doesn't listen). So they go.

Breaking the rules, after all, is their thing.

* * *

 ** _WARNING: mentions and discussion of abortion follow._**

* * *

What Helena doesn't know is that Sarah doesn't want to eat anything. That Sarah hasn't eaten in days and If she has she's thrown it all up again. That Sarah is not here to eat and make up with Helena. That Sarah is here, because she's desperate and she wants to see Helena... no, not Helena. She wants to see herself. Wants to see what she could have been, had she even just tried to be more like her sister, instead of trying to make her sister more like her (because they're not the same, they're not, they never were, it was all lies and S told Sarah, S told Sarah that Helena had learned wrong things, that Helena's common sense was not good common sense and that they had to work together to make her better).

Sarah wishes she wouldn't have listened.

Sarah wishes a lot of things.

* * *

"Look, Helena", she says. They're in a car. S' car. Sarah is not supposed to have it. Well. S is not supposed to find out.

There's no snacks, only water. Helena is disappointed. She's had no breakfast. She pops a strand of hair into her mouth to chew on it until Sarah mumbles "jeez, 'lena, that's gross, only ba- don't do that" and offers her a gum. Then her twin shakes her head. "Sorry."  
"No offence taken", Helena tells her most humbly, because there isn't. Not on her side, anyway.

"I. I need you to do this for me." Sarah is talking, but not to Helena, she's looking out of the window. Helena wonders whether her feet look the same they did the last time they talked (Helena's are a bit bruised from training and... stuff, are Sarah's different, swollen?). "It's very easy. Just wait at the clinic. then take me home when they're done and watch me for the next day."

Sarah doesn't say 'I'. And she doesn't say 'we'. She's talking about the doctors. Not about what's going to happen.

Helena chews on the gum. Cherry mint. Her favourite. Did Sarah buy it for her? "I don't like hospitals", she says. (It's a trap, the gum's a trap).

"I know. I know. But. It is very important to me." Sarah reaches out, squeezes Helena's hand. For the first time in forever the pain fades and there's just this feeling of hand against hand, sister and sister, sestrasestra, together.

"Okay, Sarah", Helena utters, voice thick with something neither can describe, "Okay."

* * *

For a moment walking out of the operation room, now dressed in her clothes again, not the itchy hospital gown, Sarah feels hollow. (empty, hollow, incomplete, unfilled, sunken, excavated, void, deserted, lonely, barren, dry, lacking, unoccupied, blank). But then a hand that's a lot like hers, only more bruised and with more cuts and with ink dots and something sticky that looksfeelssmells like marmalade, reaches out for her own.

She squeezes it. She hugs Helena (yes!). She knows she will be okay. They will be.

Together.


	6. Summer

They were made together and then they split into two. Two, who would never be complete by themselves. Not really.

It seems to be their curse. Whenever they are together, they have to split up again.

* * *

Helena graduates with flying colours, surprising mostly herself. It makes sense. It really does. Helena isn't someone to leave things undone. She might not be up for anything, but If she considers something important she gives it her all.

Jesse is proud of her, he writes, he is off to serve in the army. Mrs S, too, is proud, she says, because she's there on Helena's graduation day, she drove there by car. She took Felix with her, who also acknowledges his big sister's success with a friendly "well done, nerd" nudging her in the shoulder.

It doesn't mean much (does it) not to Helena. Because someone isn't there.

* * *

Sarah can't handle it. She wanted to come, she wanted (Helena knows, of course, probably, maybe, Sarah hopes).

So, she's out in town, drinking, not thinking.

They're gonna offer Helena another scholarship, she thinks (one more).

S is gonna push Helena to take the scholarship, she thinks (one more).

Helena is gonna go to another town and go and go off to university and she's gonna go and be good and she's gonna go and she's gonna play hockey and someone will see and they'll sign her up and Helena is gonna go play on a local team first and then the nationals and she's gonna change towns and maybe she's even gonna change countries and then she's gonna be famous and Sarah will see her in the Olympia commercials in a bar, because Sarah won't have her own tv to watch, never mind her own place, she thinks (just leave the bottle, yeah).

It's a good thing she's not thinking.

Sarah thinks: she needs another drink.

* * *

Their summer is good, though, it really is.

Helena is back in Toronto and without Jesse to distract her, Sarah's got her sister all to herself.

It's a bit like old times, or even better since they can take Felix.

They spend their days doing a lot of nothing. Skate parks, ice cream, sleep after sleepless nights, cheap bars, crappy concerts, spraying trains, jumping trains (Helena really likes stuff with trains)...

It seems like this will never end.

* * *

They go to the beach. Helena wears a bikini. Sarah gets arrested.

* * *

"It can't go on like this, Sarah", S says. And Sarah knows she means it, because she uses her name instead of 'chicken'.

Sarah clenches her hand into a fist, involuntarily. She'd rather hold another hand. It feels so empty like this. She doesn't say anything.

Helena is upstairs, waiting, and she knows. She knows. She understands why and she doesn't judge.

Sarah sighs, avoiding her foster mother's gaze. Sometimes she has to remember that this is not her real mum. That she doesn't have to listen to her, not really. That they're 18 now. That, If she had another place to go, she could. Just like that.

(But Helena wouldn't be there. Helena wouldn't come to sleep in a stranger's bed, because Helena's got Jesse and that's final, to Helena.)

"I have had a hard time accepting you dropping out of school", S tells her calmly. Sarah snorts. She can still hear her (that's wasting your life and you know it, what are you gonna do, sell drugs, are you listening to me, Christ on a cross, sometimes I even wish you were more like your sister). Sometimes Sarah wishes she could be more like her sister. And not in the way S threw it at her as an insult, but for real.

"But I accepted that, because that's what I do as your mother. I support you." Somehow it feels like being trapped when S uses 'mother' in that context. Like she's reminding Sarah that she owes her (where would you be without me, where would Helena be).

"But this? Hurting people? Sarah, that's too much."

Sarah looks at the fridge, there's an old picture that Helena has drawn of them. Sarah loves it.

She doesn't explain. S wouldn't understand why she did it. And it doesn't matter, because Helena does.

 _I like your wings_

.

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you would like to see next.**


	7. Yes?

Helena gets home after practice one day to find Sarah on her doorstep.

Sarah with a tear scarred face. Sarah looking up at her with smudged eyeliner eyes. Sarah cracking a shy smile, Sarah saying: "Oi, meathead. Long day you've had, huh?"

Sarah, sitting on Helena's doorstep, after two months without a call. Without a word. Without a trace.

Helena bends down and hugs her other half breathless. She's missed her so much.

* * *

 _It's happened again_ , Sarah tells her. Sarah tells her a lot of things. Not that she had to. Helena still remembers the first time. Still remembers all of it. She sees.

Helena fixes Sarah orange juice and listens, just listens. Sarah talks for two hours straight, only stopping for more juice and a trip to the loo. And Helena wonders.

Helena wonders who denied Sarah to speak for so long. Who spoke for her. Who made her feel like all the words she's now saying had to stay hidden inside. If she gets her hands on him, she will crush him. And she won't feel sorry.

* * *

"Sarah?"

"Mh?" Sarah blinks her eyes, furrows her brows, looks, smiles. "Oi, 'lena."

"I have to go to my trainings now", Helena tells her, "There's over-left lasagna in the fridge, you can make it warm again in the microwaver."

Sarah smiles, rubs her eyes. "You're telling me that you weren't hungry enough to eat it all?"

Helena shrugs. "Things change, I suppose."

What she doesn't say in all her words is: stay. She can only hopes Sarah hears her. And listens to her.

* * *

Sarah wanders around her sister's flat, she's so bored. And since they're one in a way (they are) it's almost like it's her own flat.  
She hasn't talked to Helena in two months, but it doesn't seem like her life has changed as much as Sarah's anyway. But that's two months of talking. The real thing, that hits her, is that she hasn't been to Helena's flat since she moved in a few years ago.

She only always picked her up or dropped her off. But she never went inside for that infamous coffee. (Helena's got a nice coffee machine, too bad it's no use to Sarah now, but hey – you can make hot chocolate too – that might work).

The place is so neat and tidy that's in a way not Helena at all. But then she shares this place with Jesse, when he's not working. In a way she always shares with him. He's everywhere. On the wall – framed – ice skating on wobbly legs with Helena snickering next to him; on the fridge – held in place by a heart-shaped magnet - kissing Helena, Sarah's sister, on the cheek and taking a selfie; on the table where the letters lie – just a name – Mr. Jesse Towing; in the closet – where his clothes are hanging; in the shower – where Sarah almost uses his shampoo. (Obviously her hair will do much better with the products her twin uses; their hair is the same).

Mr. Jesse Towing is everywhere and it caves Sarah in, makes her grab for her jacket, hair still wet from not-with-Jesse's-shampoo-hairwash, makes her open the door...

And then there's the thought of Helena.

How she looked like telling her about the food. How she smiled when she found Sarah on her doorstep. How she didn't say "stay" but meant it.

So Sarah shakes her head, closes the door, takes off the jacket, reheats the lasagna, adds a picture of her and her sister to the fridge and stays.

* * *

They fall into rhythm easily. Because this is what they do.

Helena still goes to training, but not to a lot of her university classes. (She doesn't have to anyway, sports people get an easy pass, but usually she goes, because she appreciates school and she likes to learn new languages). She would. If she knew for certain she'd return to Sarah sitting on the sofa and complaining about cable tv, she would. But she cannot be sure of that.

Sarah has left one too many times and it's left Helena scarred like that. (they're one, they belong together, there's no place for mistrust). Yet there is.

Sarah spends her days at the apartment, mostly. She might go out for some light shopping, but that's about everything she'll do by herself. Everything else (shiny clean rooms with uncomfortable plastic chairs and many people, so many people, sitting, waiting, waiting, reading, boring) she does with Helena.

It's nice like that, really, because neither of them really know what it's like to be alone. Helena maybe more than Sarah, with Jesse being away for months and her boarding school past. (but both of them, together, they don't, they just know this, together, twosome, wholesome).

Sarah would take crashing at Helena's other her other possibilities (S, Felix, strangers, so called friends that really aren't) any day. And Helena would have Sarah. Always.

* * *

"'lena", Sarah calls. She's sitting on the sofa watching some movie she found on Netflix. All blood and gore. They love those. Helena's making dinner.

"Yeah?" She doesn't look up to see where Sarah is, what Sarah does. She knows.

"When's Jesse coming home?"

Helena cuts the carrots. The water is already boiling. She adds some butter. "You can stay", she says.

Sarah sighs.

* * *

If it came down to them of course Sarah could stay. Forever. But there's him now, too. There's Helena and Sarah. Obviously. But now there's also Helena and Jesse. There's Sarah and her daughter.

They know now that Sarah will have a girl. Thank god, Sarah thinks. Growing up without a dad surely must be harder for boys than for girls. Felix always complained about the lack of a male figure. (Benjamin is hardly a substitute). Her daughter will be fine without a dad. She'll have a good mum, a good aunt, a good uncle and probably a good grandmother (If Sarah ever tells her, but that's her thing, Helena won't interfere, that's her decision to make). Sarah's child, Helena's niece, will be fine.

But where will she stay?

If it was Sarah and Helena (like it's supposed to be) then they would stay with Helena, surely. A baby doesn't need a room to herself and when she's older they could always move. Maybe S would switch her house for a flat (she always complains how much work a whole house is). Then they could live there. With the playground and the school nearby. They would raise the baby together, Helena would play her sports, Sarah would play her games. They would be perfect.

But there's Jesse.

Jesse, whom Helena loves. Jesse, who wants to marry Helena (hey – Sarah was looking for a shirt in what she thought to be her sister's drawer, which is basically hers, they share everything, how was she supposed to know that the drawer was Jesse's secret hiding place for the ring box – and he'll probably be grateful, because the size is wrong and now she can tell him, though maybe she'd rather not, but how will he know then and the ring should fit, because Helena deserves everything, Helena deserves perfect). Jesse, who will come home soon.

And so Sarah leaves. But not without saying goodbye. Not this time.

* * *

"You can stay", Helena says for the hundredth time.

Sarah nods. "I know."

"Why don't you, then?" Her sister looks wounded, sad. She doesn't understand. Sarah is doing this for her. But even If she explained, she wouldn't want to understand. So there's no use.

"I just think the city's not the right place for a child", Sarah lies.

Helena looks down at her shoes. Dirty with mud from the running track. It has been raining for days now. "I don't think you should be alone right now, Sarah."

Sarah shakes her head. "No, you're right. I won't."

"Where will you go?" Helena stares at her with big brown eyes. "Will you go back to him?"

Cal. The baby's dad. Sarah screwed him in too many ways. He'd be so angry. She couldn't. Not even If she wanted to (she doesn't).

Sarah shakes her head. "Home."

 **A/N: Hmmm, I wonder where that is. :) Thank you for reading. Let me know your thoughts.  
Edit: I really try to get spaces where I want them - it's not working somehow. So we'll have to do with lines.  
**


	8. Perfection

Sarah never felt beautiful.

Well. Maybe she did once. When she was younger and her walking mirror, her twin, was smiling back at her. Maybe she thought: _that's what I look like. That's me. I'm beautiful._ Maybe she believed it. Maybe she smiled back at her twin.

But after that? After Helena was gone? Sarah didn't feel beautiful any longer (incomplete, torn apart, distraught, broken, needs to be fixed).

Even reuniting with Helena years later couldn't fix it. Putting on make up couldn't fix it. Hearing a hundred people tell her how beautiful she is didn't fix it. Nothing would ever fix it.

And it's still true. After all this time Sarah still doesn't believe she's beautiful. Nothing is fixed. And yet everything is.

Because Sarah doesn't think about it anymore. Sarah doesn't care about, she forgets. Beauty has been redefined and confined to the little creature in her arms.

 _Kira.  
_

That's all Sarah has to know to know what beauty is. What perfection is.

* * *

She is all that, her Kira. Ten fingers, ten toes, blue eyes, button nose. Perfect.

Normally Sarah feels trapped, caged. She's always on alert, looking for an escape, seeking change. But not with Kira she isn't.

And that's weird, isn't it? Because she's in a hospital and she hates hospitals ( _they_ hate hospitals) and there's an IV in her arm and her lower belly is in so much pain (though it's duller now, somehow) and it's raining outside and the food is bad (not that she can keep it down) and it's a Monday and she hates Mondays and she should hate being here, she should hate being tied to a bed like this – but she doesn't. She loves it. Because Kira is there with her, ten fingers, ten toes, blue eyes, button nose.

* * *

Helena is reluctant. She comes with Mrs. S and Felix.

She didn't bring Jesse. Sarah's glad.

Helena brings flowers instead and a sock monkey (a teddy bear would be too boring, both of them agree, later, maybe). She gives Sarah a careful hug and a kiss on the forehead, that's it.

She could have been here earlier, would have been here earlier, but Sarah didn't want her to. She took S. And Helena doesn't want to say, doesn't even want to feel it, yet she can't stop feeling left out. Betrayed.

They're one. She should have been there. Everything could have happened. Sarah might have needed her. Sarah might have died. But she didn't want her. Stubbornly Helena plots not to ask Sarah to come when she's giving birth to her first child (how terrifying the thought of having a child is, is not part of this equation).

"How's the little nugget?", Felix asks. He's clearly excited to see, hold, get to know his niece.

"Asleep", Sarah says shortly, "And Helena's gonna hold her first."

"I don't mind", Helena mumbles, because she's still betrayed and she needs Sarah to know that, needs them all to know that this was wrong to do and that now she won't care, like Sarah didn't care, but her burning cheeks tell otherwise (two betrayals by herself and her other half in a day, call the Guiness comitee).

Sarah grins. "You're gonna hold her first."

* * *

First Helena is angry. Then she's just terrified.

Kira is beautiful. Like. Really beautiful. Helena doesn't think much about beauty (Jesse tells her she is that, she tells him he is that and then that's that). But Kira really is beautiful.

And oh so tiny.

It's a cliche, she knows. She's watched many movies. People always feel like the baby is too small. Like they will break the baby. She's snorted at those people. It seemed ridiculous to her. Now she understands.

Sarah is there, extending her arms. Sarah is smiling. Sarah is holding Kira, as If it's no big thing. Sarah wants Helena to hold Kira in the same fashion. But she can't. She's not Sarah. They're not the same. Just two split into one.

"Don't worry, meathead, you'll do fine", Sarah promises, smiling. Helena doesn't correct her, simply follows the request. If she treats this like a problem she has to solve, she'll solve it, right? She solves all the problems. She can do this.

Kira is heavy in her arms, heavier than she imagined. She's not all that fragile, like Helena thought. Only her neck and head are, that's what Sarah says. Helena listens to Sarah, follows the instructions, solves the problem. And then she sits there, in an uncomfortable white hospital (she hates hospitals) chair, a baby against her chest. She doesn't know whose breathing is heavier, hers or Kiras.

"You okay there, 'lena?", Sarah asks after a while, brow raised.

Helena meets her eyes. Brown drowning in brown. Kira's eyes are blue. "She's a miracle, Sarah."  
"Yeah. She really is."

* * *

Helena stays until she gets kicked out. She doesn't hold Kira all the time, Felix gets his turn and Mrs. S reenacts the way she used to hold Felix with her. Sarah holds her, feeds her - "a miracle", Helena says, Sarah rolls her eyes and tells her that this is only the milk and they will soon look the same as hers again (Helena doesn't believe that) – rocks her, sings to her (she used to do that for Helena and Helena remembers and Helena would like for her to do that again), puts her to sleep. Helena puts the sock monkey next to her niece into the crib. They eat, they talk, Sarah naps. Kira wakes, needs a change. Mrs. S does it, but Helena watches closely. Next time she will be able to do that.

When the nurse tells her to go, Felix and Mrs. S are long gone. It's just the three of them and Helena decides to tell Sarah.

"Sarah?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I was afraid that... I feared that she would be too much. For us." Helena looks at Sarah and Sarah looks back. She understands (probably).

Sarah nods. "Yeah. Me too."

Helena smiles, then. "She isn't. She's perfect."

"Yes. Yes, she really is, isn't she?"

Helena bends down, presses another kiss to her sister's forehead. "I love you. Both."

Sarah says it back, says goodnight, watches as Helena goes. She looks at that perfect little human sleeping peacefully in the crib. She exhales.

"We'll be alright", she says. And believes it.

* * *

 **A/N: Fluff before the storm is what they say... right? Thanks for R &R!**


	9. 3AM

"Sarah", Helena says as she opens the door, before she even sees her sister. But she knows. She knows.

No one else ever turns up at their door at three in the morning.

"Helena", Sarah says. She doesn't hug her, peeks past her.

"Do come in", Helena offers, sleepily. There's no hardness to her voice, just exhaustion. Because that is what she is, exhausted.

Sarah comes in and Helena gently closes the door, as If it would matter after Sarah tormented the poor door bell for minutes on end. It's a miracle that she didn't wake up the whole house.

"Where is she?", Sarah asks, looking around the living room. Helena tries not to take it personal that her sister, her twin sister, her sestra, doesn't give her a second thought.

"It's three in the morning", she says, drowsily.

Sarah gives her a look that really hurts. Helena's seen that look.

* * *

" _I wanna see her", Sarah says._

 _Mrs. S' arms are crossed and Helena is lingering behind their foster mother, unable to move. She never likes it when they fight, never liked it. She's pushed to choose sides in a fight that isn't hers and choosing is the exaggeration of the century. As If she'd choose sides based on facts, thoughts, considerations. Sarah is beyong... She'd always pick Sarah, always._

" _No." Mrs. S shakes her head. Sarah growls, like a puppy. Woof woof._

" _You can't keep me from seeing her." Helena can see her move, feel her move as she pushes against their only parent, trying to push past her (and past Helena, too, because she doesn't matter and she thought she would and she thought they would be alright, but they're not and there's nothing to change that and she aches for shreds)._

" _I won't let you see her when you're like this." And for a moment, Helena imagines that Mrs. S is shielding_ her _from her twin sestra, that_ she _is the one Sarah wants to see so desperately. But that's not true. Mrs. S always wanted to protect Sarah from Helena, not the other way around._

" _Like what?"_

" _Drunk. On drugs." And Helena thinks they were better, before. It was better before, life was better and Sarah was happier and If she'd never gone to boarding school they would..._

 _No. She mustn't think that. She mustn't._

 _Sarah tries to fight Mrs. S some more, but Mrs. S is stronger. Only Helena could. But she doesn't. She's frozen. She doesn't wanna choose._

" _Fine", Sarah says then, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She gives Mrs. S this look (hurt, anger, betrayal, pain, hate, love, hate, hate, hate...) that makes it so hard for Helena to keep watching."I'm going." And then, and then. Brown meets brown and voice meets air meets ear meets brain and Sarah asks: "You coming, 'lena?"_

 _And although she knows that she's not really who Sarah wants, even as she can feel the shame creep up in her cheeks colouring them peachy, though Mrs. S' hand on her shoulder reminds her that she could, that she doesn't have to, that there's a choice – there really isn't. And Sarah goes. And Helena follows._

* * *

"You can come see her", Helena offers. In her head this is waving the white flag. A peace offering. "You can sleep on the couch, and then tomorrow you can-"  
"No", Sarah cuts her off. She's already sitting on the couch. But Sarah does confusing things like this. Says things and doesn't mean them. Means things and doesn't say them. "I wanna take her. Right now."

Helena's hand aches to reach out, to rub circles into Sarah's back like she used to, to lie facing Sarah's sock to whisper in the dark and ask what happened and what's wrong and how can I help you. But somewhere along the road they missed that stop and the train only goes in one direction and Helena doesn't think they'll ever go back by foot. Too much of a climb. Sarah never really liked sports.

Instead she sighs, because she's exhausted and hurt and she can't. She just can't. "Alright then. Let me get her."

* * *

As she goes into the bedroom she can feel Jesse's eyes on her. Sometimes she likes it when he watches her, because it makes her feel happy and he smiles and it makes her feel loved and she loves him and the world is just wonderful, then. Tonight she'd rather not have him watch her.

"It's her, isn't it", he tells the dark, because really, it's not a question. Helena doesn't answer. It's not necessary to reply to not-question-questions. Waste of breath.

Jesse sighs, exhausted like her. "It's three in the morning."

Another statement. No need for an answer, again. Helena feels her cheeks go hot. She stuffs some clothes into a bag.

"Helena..." He listens as she packs more stuff. She listens, waits for him to continue. "I don't feel comfortable, letting her take her in the middle of the night", he says, finally.

Helena doesn't reply, because whatever she could say would be a betrayal to one of the two people she loves the most and she just can't do that, not right now.

She reaches down and picks Kira up.

* * *

Sarah showers her with kisses, she always does when she comes and leaves, leaves and comes back. It's more of a circular than a reversible action nowadays.

"You've grown so much, monkey", she tells the infant.

 _You've been gone for a month_ , Helena wants to say. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to say them that badly, really.

"Where are you going?", she says instead.

"Up north", Sarah says, absentmindedly putting Kira into her jacket. It's early spring. It will be cold out. "I'll call you, when I get there."

 _Will you really_ , Helena wants to ask. But she doesn't.

"That would be nice", she says instead. Because, really, it would be.


	10. Five years old

As a child, Helena truly and deeply believed that she would find her eternal happiness building a home for her own children with her husband, as would her sister. She believed they'd live door to door with a shared backyard. She believed their children would be close in age, best friends, almost twins. But not twins, not really, because five-year-old Helena, locked in a closet with barely any food for a month- her only companions: brooms, believed that their bond was magic.

She believed that Sarah and she were the only twins in the whole wide world. She believed that no one else ever had or ever would feel something quite like they did. And because she believed, believed so deeply as she did, Helena didn't die in that closet. Or later, when they struck her, when they cut her, when they put her head under water until she lost consciousness, when they said they had to clean her _innominipatrietfiliietspiritussancti_ , amen.

Four-year-old Helena had a most precious secret. A secret that kept her alive, kept her going. And a belief that was so deeply routed and unquestioned in her heart (unlike cutting herself, which she learned was bad, but still did when she felt hollow and empty like the closet she'd spent a month in) that at the age of 26 she still believed it.

So when Jesse asked her to marry him, of course she said yes.

* * *

And she'd say it again. If he asked today, if he asked tomorrow: she'd say again.

Because Helena still holds onto believing. Helena thinks:

If only Sarah would talk to Kira's dad (Cal, not Vic, no 'lena, what do you think jeez, no, his name's Cal, Cal, CalCalCalCalSarahKira).

If only Sarah would talk to Mrs. S (you cannot dump her and take her as you will, she's a child, she deserves better).

If only Sarah would talk to Helena (this is Sarah's phone, leave a message).

And it's Christmas and Jesse has asked Helena to marry her and Helena said yes and Kira is sitting on the floor playing with her new colouring book and Sarah is gone. Goes. Went. Gone.

* * *

"I worry", Helena tells the hogwash. They used to share that task. Helena would do the rinsing (she likes the bubbles and how her fingers crumple when they're all water soaked) and Sarah would do the drying (she doesn't like it particularly, but she doesn't like the rinsing either and at least they can talk when they're doing it). Sarah isn't here. Mrs. S does the drying.

"I know", Mrs. S says. She doesn't say _don't worry_. She doesn't say _Sarah will be fine_.

Helena wishes she'd said something else.

* * *

Kira is five, which is how old Helena was when she lived purely by believing in Sarah and their future together. If Kira lives by believing in Sarah, she's got a big storm coming. Or really, she's got nothing coming.

Because Sarah doesn't come for Christmas. Not this year.

Helena doesn't believe she will. Not anymore.

* * *

Helena sits with Kira to help her do the colouring. It's a calming task. Colouring with Kira, her niece, Sarah's daughter. Doing what Sarah should be doing. Pretending Sarah is here doing it with them. It's calming. It makes her heart ache.

Kira is only five, but Helena knows that your heart can hurt when you're five years old. Helena knows. That's why she tries her hardest to keep Kira happy, far from hurting.

But Kira is five now. And Kira understands that she has a mummy, who isn't coming on Christmas. And she asks, and Helena says: "Maybe she got stuck in the snow."

Lying is a sin, but she doesn't feel guilty. Sarah might as well be stuck in the snow on their street or miles away, trying to fall asleep in the hidden corners of an empty train station, eyes glued to the Christmas advert featuring a young couple and their daughter, all smiles.

* * *

Five-year-old Sarah believed in nothing at all. Her elder foster brother, whose name she would forget later, but at that time she knew, a teenager, had told her all about it. How the tooth fairy only came to children, whose parents had money. How the Easter bunny was the main course, not someone who brought coloured eggs. How it wasn't Santa Clause, who filled the socks and ate the cookies, but parents of children, who had parents. Which ultimately meant that none of those creatures would ever come to Sarah, because Sarah didn't have parents. Or anything for that matter.

All she used to have was Helena. And Helena, now, was gone.

Five-year-old Sarah only partially believed in God. She thought, If she prayed often enough he might give her back her sister. But he never did. And Sarah stopped praying.

* * *

26-year-old Sarah is sitting inside a cabin, that is not hers. Waiting for the man it belongs to. Knowing that he probably won't come, since it's Christmas. Thinking that If she up and left right away, If she made it back to the station and into the next train, If she run all the way to their house-

no, she wouldn't make it. It's too late now.

Sarah didn't plan on not coming for Christmas. She knows she's been horrible with Kira. With everyone, really. But she always made it for Christmas. Always.

* * *

Sarah used to love, no, loves Christmas. She really does. It's a lot of bickering and good food, but it's also family and it's peace. It's like they used to be before all the shit with boarding school and Vic and drugs and clubs and Kira and Helena and Sarah and Helena and Sarah happened.

S can be cruel If she wants to, but never on Christmas. Everyone's just happy on Christmas.

And Sarah thought. Sarah was thinking, that she might change everything this year. That she might get back to how things were before everything went down the drain. She really did think that bringing Kira's dad, making them a family, would save them. Save her.

* * *

It's what she lacked as a child. It's why she went crazy as a teenager. She never knew her origin. She only had Helena, who, frankly, was no help in that regard, because she didn't care (Sarah was always enough for her). She had S, who said she didn't know anything. And Felix, who himself didn't want to look into his birth family tree, too afraid of how they might react to him liking boys.

* * *

When Sarah last saw Kira (because it's come to the point where Sarah may only see her with S' permission, where Sarah has to stay with S to see Kira and Helena isn't even there to back her up, because Helena moved away without telling Sarah, because she only left a message when it was finalized and that's not really telling, is it, because she decided without even asking Sarah how she felt about it), Sarah saw changes in Kira.

Kira has become less bubbly, more quiet. Kira seemed to be absentminded, thinking. Kira didn't talk as much as she used to, she listened.

And Sarah saw Kira and Sarah saw herself in Kira and no. She can't let that happen.

And that's why Sarah, on the 22nd, packed a bag and said: "I'll be back soon."

And that's why Sarah is sitting in the cabin of Kira's father, waiting for him to come. Since two days.

* * *

Sarah needs to fix this. It might be too late for her, to ever really be fixed (it might have been to late the moment two social workers pulled on tiny legs, slapped tiny hands until tiny fingers let go and tiny girls cried, cried, cried). But it's certainly not too late for Kira. It mustn't be.

* * *

So Sarah sits. And waits. And falls asleep.

And Helena, in Toronto, not knowing, sits. And waits (her belief not quite dead yet), and falls asleep. Dreaming of two houses with a shared backyard.

Sarah doesn't have any dreams.


End file.
